Now that grandma and grandpa have gone, heading north to the cottage has
become just a hassle. The kids put up a fuss. There's so much to do in the
city, "There's not even Wi-Fi up there." Packing the SUV takes forever.

why the spotted fawn
accepts the outstretched lily
from an open hand . . .
summers full of loneliness
reflected in the old pond

But years ago, after mom and dad left in the station wagon to beat the rush
back to Toronto, man-o-man would we party. We could squeeze every minute
from that last evening of the summer. We skinny-dipped in full view of the
harvest moon. We cleaned out the fridge. Cooked up anything we could think
of that was round. We ate burgers topped with sliced tomatoes, skewered
sweet potatoes, and flamed marshmallows on the campfire.

Before locking the door to the cottage for another year, one by one, we
lined up around a huge rock to recite poetry under the shimmering moonlight.